


Improvisation

by youcouldmakealife



Series: Impaired Judgment (and other excuses) [20]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-04-17 14:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14190882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcouldmakealife/pseuds/youcouldmakealife
Summary: If your boyfriend was hypothetically a freaking millionaire and you’re broke, what the hell would you get him for his birthday?Jared texts.





	Improvisation

Bryce’s birthday is in two days, and Jared has no idea what he’s supposed to do about it.

Bryce hasn’t even mentioned his birthday: the only reason Jared knows it’s coming up is thanks to stumbling over it while checking out his wikipedia page, which feels kind of stalkery when he thinks about it. In his defence, he just wanted to double check his penalty minutes to see if he was like, exaggerating them in his head, and he kind of was. Like, Bryce is no Luke Morris or anything. But then, it’s kind of _expected_ for Morris to get penalty minutes, and fighting majors stack fast. Bryce has no excuse.

But the more salient fact he learned is that in less than forty-eight hours Bryce is turning twenty-one, and Jared has no idea what to get him. Bryce seems to have everything he wants, up to and including his stupid expensive car, and Jared’s allowance, plus some money saved, would barely pay for dinner and a movie, which isn’t even special, since they’ve done it multiple times on Bryce’s dime.

Jared would stay over: gift for Bryce, gift for him, but his parents would flat out refuse if he asked, and he doesn’t think they’d buy ‘sleeping over at a friend’s’ right now, even if one of the semi-local Hitmen covered for him.

He’s at a loss.

This is kind of embarrassing, but Jared doesn’t actually…know how to buy presents? When he was a kid going to those giant birthday parties the entire team or half the class go to, his mom would ask what the birthday boy or girl liked and then go out and get something for him to bring. It’s not like he’s gone to a ton of birthday parties since then, and it was considered kind of — gay to get your friends presents. Never mind that Jared is so gay he’s thinking about what to get his _boyfriend_. Basically the only gifts he’s ever been responsible for are for his immediate family, and even then it’s just his mom and dad, since his mom goes out and gets something for Erin and then has him sign the tag.

He could just not acknowledge it, since Bryce didn’t mention it to him, but the idea of ignoring Bryce’s birthday makes him feel shitty, especially since he’s basically the sole reason Bryce isn’t at home right now. He’s got to do _something_.

Jared, feeling like a complete dork about it, sits in front of his computer with a pen, an old notebook from his English class last year, and opens up list after list that came up in the search results for ‘gifts for someone who has everything’.

So many of them are just not going to happen. What the hell’s Bryce going to do with a pencil holder shaped like a porcupine? Who even has pencils anymore? Plus some of these sites seem to have a weird idea of how much money you’re willing to drop: Jared’s not exactly in the ‘Super Bowl tickets’ range. Hell, he’s not even in the Flames’ tickets range, though obviously Bryce doesn’t need those. 

Huh. Now Jared’s wondering if his boyfriend being on the Flames means he can actually see more games live than the two games a year they do go to: one for his birthday, one for his dad’s birthday. 

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jared. Also, don’t use your boyfriend for Flames tickets.

(Jared is totally going to use his boyfriend for Flames tickets. It’s called being a supportive boyfriend, _self-judging side of Jared_.)

Jared adds ‘inexpensive’ to the search, feeling guilty about it, but whatever, it’s not like Bryce doesn’t know what WHL salary (or lack thereof) looks like.

The ideas are all _stupid_. Even the supposedly inexpensive things are way out of his budget — because he can _totally_ afford a hot air balloon ride or monthly subscription boxes. Jared can’t even remember the last time he listened to an actual CD, and there’s no way he’s making a mix CD like he’s Erin’s age. Jared hasn’t done arts and crafts since elementary school, and he’s pretty sure his parents’ faint ‘oh, this is so lovely, we’ll treasure it forever’ was humouring him even then, so that’s emphatically out.

His mom’s always been great at the thoughtful gift thing, but there’s no way in hell he’s asking her. Ditto dad. And the internet’s just got him more frustrated than he started, so Jared turns to the only person he can think of.

_If your boyfriend was hypothetically a freaking millionaire and you’re broke, what the hell would you get him for his birthday?_ Jared texts.

_can you cook?_ Raf texts back. _that’s what I did for Grace’s bday._

Jared actually _can_ cook. Not like, a pro, but his parents sometimes both work evenings, and if Jared wants to eat something that fits his nutrition plan, that means cooking for himself. Plus it’s not like Bryce cooks at all, so it’d probably be novel for him, eating something that didn’t come straight from the hands of a delivery guy.

_You are the best_ , Jared texts.

*

It’s much, much easier to find good recipes on the internet than good gift ideas. Jared goes with a fairly simple but still elegant looking chicken dish, with potatoes and some veg as a side. Good for you, but not the kind of ‘good for you’ food where you can taste how good it is for you because that’s basically _all_ it tastes like.

Jared prints it out and heads downstairs, passing his mom doing some work at the kitchen table. “Hey, I’m going to the grocery store, want me to pick up anything?” Jared asks.

His mom gives him a suspicious look, which is what Jared gets for trying to be _nice_ , he guesses.

“Text me if you think of anything,” Jared says, escaping out the door before she can ask what the hell he’s going for, like he knows she was about to. Generally things go smoother if Jared doesn’t remind his parents of Bryce’s existence, and he assumes bringing it to their attention that he’s turning twenty-one is a less than great idea.

Jared gets double of everything he needs, because he doesn’t want to do something untested. Like, it’s a pretty hard recipe to fuck up, but he doesn’t want to risk it — ‘happy birthday, please feel obligated to eat this horrible meal I made for you’.

It kind of blows a chunk in his bank account — is chicken usually so _expensive_? Jared could buy already cooked chicken for less than the raw breasts are costing him — but Jared successfully stocks up.

“I can make dinner tonight,” Jared says when he gets home, and it’s not like he’s never made dinner, but he’s probably never actually volunteered before, because his mom looks even more suspicious. 

“Feel free,” she says, though, because no Matheson ever says no to free food. It’s a rule. Not a Matheson Rule like not talking with your mouth full, but definitely Matheson Policy.

It takes Jared longer than the prep time claims, because he’s trying to be all precise about his chopping rather than going in haphazardly like usual, but the veg is pretty, the potatoes are tender and well-seasoned, and the chicken’s only a tiny bit dry. Jared mentally shaves off a smidgen of cook time for next time.

Everyone’s plates are clean at the end, and Jared would take that as a good sign, except that’s usually the case, so all it means is it wasn’t inedible. So, success?

“Comments?” Jared asks. “Criticism?”

“You’re being weird,” Erin says.

“That’s not what I meant by criticism,” Jared says.

“I know,” she says. “And it was really more of an observation.”

Fucking _smartass_. Jared would almost be proud if it wasn’t always turned against him. 

“It’s very good, honey,” his mom says.

“Mom,” Jared says. “Constructive criticism is what I need here.”

“You _are_ being weird,” she says.

“That’s not what I mean by criticism!” Jared says.

“It’s really more of an observation,” she says, and shoots a smug little grin at Erin, who’s apparently briefly suspended her ‘ugh, my parents are the worst’ frame of mind, because she’s smirking right back. 

*

Bryce still hasn’t said anything about his birthday on the morning of, tells Jared to swing around any time after five-thirty, like usual on his training days.

Jared guesses he could cook at home, but it probably doesn’t reheat well, especially the vegetables, so he can’t do it in advance. Can’t invite Bryce over, obviously — he’s sure his parents would say yes, just to have an eye on them, but no, not happening. Plus, what if Bryce thinks he just ordered something or took leftovers his parents made and pretended he did it himself? Jared would probably think that in his position.

He arms himself with two reusable bags full of supplies, stops at a bakery on the way to Bryce’s. He can cook, but he doesn’t have the patience for baking, and birthdays deserve at least a cupcake. There’s a ridiculous variety, and Jared has no clue which Bryce would even like, which is like — of course he doesn’t, they’ve only been dating for a few weeks and the food eaten at Bryce’s is of the savoury (and deliverable) sort. It’s just weird, thinking that he knows about Bryce’s dad, knows that he’s weirdly self-conscious considering he’s _Bryce Marcus_ , can tell you the number of moles on the inside of his left thigh, but he doesn’t know if he prefers chocolate or vanilla. Well, wait: he does. Bryce got vanilla ice cream that first week, ergo, vanilla cupcake.

It’s probably really sad how much thought Jared’s putting into a cupcake. Especially since now he’s thinking that he personally prefers chocolate ice cream, but thinks vanilla cupcakes are the way to go, and —

Just buy a fucking cupcake, Jared.

Jared worries, after he leaves the bakery, that this is going to look like…super lame, that it’s going to be so fucking obvious how much Jared likes him, so obvious how much he thought of what to do, but it’s too late to back out now, without any other gift ideas, and anyway, it’s Bryce’s birthday. Jared wants him to have a good birthday.

*

The concierge greets Jared with a warm and familiar ‘good evening’ after Bryce buzzes him in, which is probably a sign that Jared’s here a lot. Which, like, yeah, every day is probably a lot. Bryce has come up with him from the parking garage enough times that they’re clearly some type of unit, and Jared wonders if he thinks he’s Bryce’s brother or his friend or if he’s pegged exactly what he is. Though, honestly, he probably doesn’t give Jared a second thought once he’s in the elevator. Jared hopes so, at least. He wonders if concierges have non-disclosures or something.

Also, Jared can’t get over the whole concierge thing. It makes the place feel like a hotel, which you’d think Bryce would be sick of by now. Nice dude, though.

“What’s all this?” Bryce asks, when Jared lugs the bags into his place.

“Food,” Jared says. 

“Um,” Bryce says, then peers into one of the bags. “But it’s like…not ready?”

“Sometimes, you take ingredients, and you cook them, and then you have a meal,” Jared says. 

Bryce snorts. “Okay, but like — why?”

“Why cook?” Jared asks.

“Why did you bring groceries?” Bryce asks, then, sounding kind of panicked, “Did you want me to cook?”

“Fuck no,” Jared says. “I’m cooking.”

“Thank god,” Bryce says in a rush, then, “But like.”

“Why?” Jared asks. 

“Yeah,” Bryce says.

“You go any longer without something home cooked I’m worried you’ll die of sodium poisoning or something,” Jared says. “Plus, like. It’s your birthday, so.”

“Oh,” Bryce says.

“Please tell me you didn’t forget your own birthday,” Jared says, because that would be the saddest thing he’s ever heard.

“No,” Bryce says. “I just — did I tell you when my birthday was?”

“No,” Jared says. “But there’s this thing called the internet, and you have a wikipedia page, so.”

God, he totally sounds like a stalker. ‘Hey Bryce, I was just casually looking you up, as you do, and realised your birthday was coming up.’ Nice, Jared. Not creepy at all.

“I wanted to see how many penalty minutes you had,” he blurts out after, like that makes it less weird.

“Yeah?” Bryce asks, kind of smiling, like he totally missed the stalker part.

“It’s too many,” Jared says. “Just for the record.”

“Thanks, coach,” Bryce says.

“He say that a lot too?” Jared says. “Or is this a kinky thing?”

“Please never make me think about Coach Burns and sex at the same time,” Bryce says, with a visible shudder, and now that Jared’s thinking about it — yeah, no. Good coach, terrifying person. And he’s not even Jared’s coach. He imagines it’s much worse if you’re playing under him.

Okay, seriously, _enough_ of the Burns and sex thing, Jared.

“Thanks,” Bryce says. “For like. Doing this. You didn’t have to.”

“Obviously I did,” Jared says. “Now please, please tell me you have kitchen shit and I don’t have to run home and get some.” He was considering bringing everything he needed, but it’d probably be weird to come in wielding a baking sheet. Like, even weirder than a couple bags of groceries.

“Yeah, my mom made me buy all that when I moved here,” Bryce says.

“You haven’t touched any of it since, have you,” Jared says.

“I cook eggs sometimes!” Bryce says. “And I use my toaster! And my microwave!”

Yeah, a home cooked meal is _clearly_ overdue. Jared might have to make this a habit.

Getting ahead of yourself again, Matheson. First the Flames tickets, now this? Maybe make it to the one month milestone — Jared refuses to call it an anniversary, anniversaries are for _years_ — first.

Bryce’s kitchen is indeed well stocked — well, with pots and pans at least, Jared cannot say the same about food — and it’s pretty good quality stuff, especially considering the baking pan Jared pulls out has probably never been used. Jared manages to gather everything he needs, despite, well —

“I can’t cook for you if you’re hovering like that,” Jared says. Plus there’s the hand that’s settled on his hip. The hand on his hip is — that’s going to lead to very late dinner. Actually, late dinner is a best case scenario. More likely it’ll be a very burnt dinner, and possibly a kitchen fire.

“Okay, okay,” Bryce says, putting his hands up, and retreats from the kitchen. “Can I stay here though?” he asks, peeking in the kitchen door from the dining room.

“I mean, watching TV or something might be less boring,” Jared says. “It’s going to take awhile.”

“You’re not boring,” Bryce says. “Like, at all.”

“Okay,” Jared says. “I _guess_ you can stay.”

“Awesome,” Bryce says. He pulls a chair over like Jared cooking dinner is a primetime show or something, and Jared leans over the bags to pull out ingredients and, more importantly, to hide the stupid smile crawling across his face.


End file.
